Voices
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: An incident with some new criminals transforms Steve Rogers into a four year old child. Now, it's up to the team to care for him until a cure can be found. And when a child has as many medical problems as Steve does, It won't be easy. Rated M for Schizophrenia, mentions of child abuse, and possible foul language, mostly on Tony's part. Slight infantilism at the end.
1. Going Through Changes

Captain America was known as a fearless leader. He called the shots, instructed his team, and put himself in the line of fire often. His civilian self, Steve Rogers, was a completely different story. Steve was meek and quiet- a follower compared to his superhero counterpart. He often enjoyed the small things in living in these Modern times. Things were so different now than they were in the 1940's- so different that he often times felt more overwhelmed than he ever let on, both in and out of uniform. Technological advances were the biggest obstacle he faced. In the '40's Radio was still popular. Now there was TV, DVD, and so many things he just didn't understand. He wanted to learn, but at the same time it felt like too much to take on. That coupled with the pressures of superhero life made it nearly impossible for him to feel at ease.

When he got the call that some mad scientists were firing ray guns in Brooklyn, he had gathered the Avengers together and formulated a plan. Hulk and Thor would start taking down the scientists while Black Widow and Hawkeye would steal their weapons and run them to Iron Man for analysis, while he evacuated the citizens. The second they arrived, all the guns were pointed at them. They broke apart, shielding themselves from the fire.

Steve headed toward a brick building that looked like it was about to crumble. He started evacuating the residents, using his shield to protect him from the falling debris. He was left wide open. As the last person scurried out, a laser hit him in the side, and he was knocked unconscious as the building crumbled on top of him.

Tony was in the middle of trying to open one of the weapons when JARVIS interrupted.

"Sir, it appears that Mr. Rogers is in severe physical distress."

"Cap? He can handle himself." He said, brushing it off as he tried to disarm the gun.

"Sir, he may die from the distress." JARVIS replied. That made Tony look up.

"Where is he?"

"Three Blocks north of here."

"Alert the others." Tony said, flying to the pile of rubble.

"Very good, Sir."

As soon as he landed, he started digging. Under the black rubble was something white. He dug frantically toward it. He wasn't at all prepared for what it led to.

The white speck was a hand. A _hand._

What that led to, though, was worse. Much worse.

Under the rubble was Steve Rogers- only this looked nothing like the Steve Rogers he knew. The figure was ashy white and looked like skin and bone. His cheeks were sunken in, making him look like he belonged in a morgue. The lips had almost no color, and dark shadows encircled the bottom of his eyes.

He looked like he was dead.

Without a word, he picked up his fallen leader and told JARVIS to tell the others he was rushing the Captain to the medical bay.

The hospital was pure white and smelled so abhorrent Tony wanted to puke his guts out, but he stayed close to Steve's room, just in case he was needed. What he hadn't been watching, however, was Steve's body as it started to shrink. It shrank until he was no bigger than two feet tall. The clothes fell from his frail body, much too big for him. When the team got there, they stared at their leader in shock.

"How did this happen?" Whispered Natasha.

Bruce, now back from his time as the Hulk, shrugged.

"I'll run some tests."

When they heard the child stir, they froze, then quietly exited the room to discuss things further.

When Steve woke up, the first thing he saw was tubes. Tubes coming from his arm and every place he could think of.

_"I'm in a hospital." _He thought. He looked over to the chairs next to him and frowned when he saw it empty.

_"Where's my Momma?" _He wondered, a little scared now. Momma always stayed by him when he was in the hospital. She sang little prayers and lullabies that made him feel better. Suddenly, the room felt oppressively big. He curled up into a ball and sniffed, scared.

_"Big boys don't cry." _Unbidden, the image of his father entered his mind and he had to stifle a whimper. Daddy was usually the reason he was in the hospital. Well, Daddy and his bad health. He stiffened as he heard the door open. Was Daddy here? He felt panic twist his stomach into knots. He relaxed when he saw it was just a doctor.

"Hello, Steve." The doctor greeted with a blinding smile. "I'm Doctor Banner."

Steve looked the man over. His brown hair was curly, his cheeks were rosy, and he had a smile that Steve trusted. Suddenly Allen started yelling at him that he couldn't trust anyone, and he fought to surpress a wince. Allen was a voice in his head. Sometimes he came out and talked to him, or sometimes he stayed in, but Steve was the only one who could see or hear him. Momma always talked about how Allen was his imaginary friend, but Steve _knew _he wasn't imaginary, and he certainly wasn't a friend. Allen told him to do bad things all the time. If Steve didn't do what he said, Allen would hit him like Daddy did. Allen scared him. He tried to push Allen away and said,

"It's nice to meet you, Doctor." Steve then noticed his arm was uncovered, and quickly tried to cover it with the blanket, hoping Doctor Banner didn't notice the bruises.

"How are you feeling?" Asked Bruce, noting Steve moving the blanket up, but trying to ignore the urge to ask about it until the initial questions were over. He couldn't have been older than four- maybe four and a half. Being in a hospital must have been a lot to take in.

"I'm okay, sir. If you don't mind my asking, do you know where my Momma is? I don't want her worrying about me." He said, concern shining in his eyes.

The question made Bruce's heart drop into his stomach. "If I see her, I'll let her know."

Steve nodded, sad and depleted.

"What do you last remember?" Bruce asked curiously. The thought of Daddy's fist pounding into him made him flinch. He wanted to lie and keep his secret, but Momma taught him to be honest.

"I don't really wanna talk about it." He said, looking down.

Bruce felt confusion swim inside him, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to push Steve too far.

"That's okay. Do you want something to eat?" He asked gently.

Not meeting his gaze, Steve nodded.

Bruce smiled at him and left, sensing the boy didn't want to say anything more. Steve looked up at the closed door and curled himself up small and tight. He missed his Momma. He wanted her to smooth his hair just like she used to and tell him he'd be fine and sing him the songs about Jesus he loved. He thought of one and sang quietly to himself.

He didn't know what all of the song meant, but it was comforting to him anyways. He felt tears sting the back of his eyes and slide down his face. He wanted his Momma. He wanted to feel her hug him and tell him things were gonna be okay again. He just wanted things to be back to normal. He cried himself to sleep, not noticing the five heroes watching him from the window, with broken hearted stares. They all looked at each other with a singular, cohesive thought in mind.

Something had to be done.


	2. Allen

Steve woke up to a pretty, red-haired woman sitting by him.

"Hello, Ma'am." He said, nervously, his voice cracking from his earlier crying.

"Hello, Steve." the woman said, smiling. "I'm Natasha."

"It's nice to meet you." He said, trying to smile. Allen was talking again, calling him names and yelling. He _hated _when Allen yelled. Natasha could tell something was wrong.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. It was then that she caught sight of the exposed arm. It was covered with large, purple splotches. She was almost sure that it was from the building, but the other part of that theory was disproven when there were no other bruises on his face or neck. This was something deeper.

"I'm okay." He said. He wished he could say he was good, or even great, but he couldn't stop listening to Allen. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and there was a distant look in his eyes. Natasha looked at him, concermed.

"Steve?" suddenly the boy began to hit violently. She started to restrain him, but he landed a few good punches and kicks. She knew something was wrong- Horribly wrong- but she didn't know what to do. After about ten minutes he stopped flailing. His eyes returned to normal, and he looked around, confused.

"Miss Natasha? What happened?" He asked.

"You don't remember?" She asked, letting him go.

He shook his head no. "Why? Should I?"

Natasha froze for a split second before saying, "Of course not. You just fell asleep."

Steve frowned, "But I don't feel tired."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Steve slowly shook his head no.

"I guess not." Natasha stood up.

"I'll be back in a little while." She said, smiling.

"Goodbye!" He called, waving.

While Natasha showed the rest of the team the video tape of what had just happened, Steve looked at the plate of food that had been left to him. It was chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. But Steve didn't dare touch it. He saw the Green Beans leaking sludge, the potatoes were bubbling, and the corn was moving. _Moving._

Tony looked at the footage with interest, as did Bruce and Hawkeye. Thor had gone back to Asguard to consult with his father, and was only going to be away for the day. Bruce looked at it from a psychological standpoint.

"He disassociated himself from the act." Bruce commented.

"He didn't know what he was doing?" Hawkeye inquired.

"Not at all. Just look at his reaction- he had no idea what he just did."

"Maybe he just got _angry. _You know something about that, don't you big guy?" Tony said, nudging Bruce in the ribs. Bruce rolled his eyes. He switched the cameras to show him what they saw now, and saw Steve curled into a ball with hands covering his ears, seemingly mumbling to someone. Bruce frowned.

"What is he doing?" Asked Hawkeye.

"I don't know." Said Bruce. "But I'm going to find out.

Steve lay on the bed, hands clamped tightly over his ears. Allen was screaming again, and saying horrible, nasty things.

_You're being watched. They're trying to poison you. They're all out to get you. They already took your Momma. Why else isn't she here right now. Not unless Daddy got to her first. You weren't there to help her. You should kill yourself you rude, disrespectful child. Go on and do it. Do it. DO IT!_

He couldn't take it anymore and he started to cry.

"Stop. Please." He pleaded, but Allen kept screaming.

"Make it stop!" He begged, hoping God would help alieviate his distress.

He wept quietly. He just wanted his Momma.

It was then that Doctor Banner came in, along with Tony. Steve didn't hear them.

"Steve? What's wrong?" He asked, maneuvering himself over to the young boy. Steve looked at him with wild eyes, then jerked his head the other way with a tiny gasp, as if being startled by someone. He turned back to Bruce.

"I just want the voices to stop. Please make it stop." With a yelp, he cradled his arm close to his chest. Allen had hit him again.

"Voices? What voices?" Bruce asked urgently, examining Steve's arm.

"The ones in my head. His name is Allen. No one else can hear 'em. They're always screamin' at me. They always hit me." At the last part, Steve's eyes darkened, and he murmured, "Why does everybody hit me?"

Bruce looked up. It just _couldn't _be. In a grave tone, He asked, "Steve, what do the voices tell you to do?"

Steve looked at Bruce. How did he know the voices told him to do things?

_"HE'S OUT TO GET YOU!" _Allen screamed.

The rest of the team had gathered in the room to see what the matter was.

Steve ignored Allen's vehement protests and spoke. "He tells me to hit. To do bad things... Tells me Daddy's right to do what he does. Tells me to die..."

And no one knew how to respond to that. It was unreal- not just for Cap to be this way, but to be at the mercy of his mind at such a young age... it was unimaginable. Bruce wrapped his arm around the small boy. The diagnosis was clear, and it filled him with dread.

"Steve, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to stay right here. Don't listen to a word of what Allen says. I'm going to get something that might help stop the voices, but I want you to stay with my friends here, okay?" He said gently. Steve nodded, more than a little frightened. He wanted to do what the nice doctor said, but he couldn't just ignore Allen. It was too much.

_You're worthless. I hate you. So does your daddy. There's something wrong. You have to stop it with your mind. These people are part of the plot. Mommy's gone now- no one can stop me. You're so stupid. You're weak. Why do I even bother with you? God can't help you now._

The thoughts were just too much. He couldn't handle it. He ignored the people in the room who were saying something to him, pressed his hands to his ears and curled up small. He wanted someone to just hold him. But Momma was gone now, and she couldn't help him now. The thought scared him even more and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry harder than he already was.

Natasha watched him with the most pity. A suppressed maternal instinct told her to sit with the child and stroke his hair, but she tamped it down, worried that it would remind the boy too much of his mother. Clint and Tony both just looked at the sight as if it were the biggest freak show at the circus, because it honestly was. The kid was Captain freakin' America- hearing voices and being a child was not part of the job description. They all watched, more than a little shaken, as the boy whimpered and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Steve hadn't sucked his thumb since he was a baby, but now he just couldn't help it. He needed comfort. His Momma was gone, he was left in a room with strangers while his doctor was away, and the voices wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried. After a few minutes of sucking he calmed down a little. He kept reminding himself that God was still there and that he wasn't all alone like he thought.

God would protect him. God would keep him safe. God had a plan.

He repeated the three phrases like a mantra, just wishing more than anything to be back at home.


	3. Wires

When Bruce returned from his excursion to find medication, he found the majority of the team sitting in the chairs at Steve's bedside. Though he didn't find this unusual per se, it was Steve who piqued his interest. The child was curled into a ball, eyes shut, mouth moving, but not speaking. Quiet, but not sleeping. He watched the child with interest as he realized the boy was praying. He gave the team a nod and they nodded back, not wanting to disturb the boy. He had stayed like that for the past fifteen minutes. When Steve opened his eyes, Bruce leapt at the chance to speak with him.

"How are you, Steve?" He asked, sitting at the boy's bedside.

"I'm okay." He said quietly. "Allen stopped yelling."

"That's good." Said Bruce with a smile. "Steve, will you take this pill for me?" He asked, placing a green pill in his hand. Steve looked at it, and nodded quietly.

"It will help stop Allen from yelling." He promised and handed the child a glass of water. Steve took it, wrinkling his face at the taste of the pill. Bruce smiled at him, and praised him for his excellent behavior before becoming serious.

"Steve, I wanted to ask you something I was wondering earlier."

"What's that, Doctor Banner?" He asked, curiously.

"Do you remember how you got here?' Steve instantly flinched at the thought, then looked over to see that the doctors friends were asleep, and said quietly,

"Momma told me I'm not allowed to tell." He rubbed his thighs, an old nervous habit.

"You can trust me, Steve. I'm sure your Momma wouldn't mind if it made you better, would she?" Bruce pressed, desperately trying to understand why his friend thought he was here. Steve paused for a long time, thinking it over.

"I guess so." He whispered. Bruce took the in and waited for him to begin when he was ready. Steve took a deep breath and spoke:

"Daddy was drinkin' some brown stuff- he said it was 'hooch'- that he got at a place called a speakeasie. Momma made me promise not to tell nobody he had it, she said it was called 'bootlegging', or whatever that meant. When Daddy had the brown stuff he always got real mad. He got mad at everybody, not just me, and was yelling at my Momma. He tripped and fell over my toy car. When I went to go get it he pulled my arm behind my back and started hitting me. Allen started talkin' when Daddy stopped talking and Daddy kept on hitting me. Momma was sitting there cryin' on the couch. When Daddy stopped and left, Momma came over and played with my hair like I like, and told me everything was gonna be okay. Next thing I knew, I was here."

The frown on Bruce's face kept deepening until it was a complete scowl. He was very careful to control the other guy, but couldn't help but feel a little angry. He put an arm around the boy, who was unnaturally quiet.

"Are you always quiet?" Bruce asked. Steve, snapping out of his reverie, smiled a little.

"I gotta be quiet. When Daddy's at work, Momma's resting. She worries a lot, 'bout me and about Daddy, so she gets real tired. I'm always quiet till she wakes up. Sometimes even a while after, cause she gets real bad headaches."

"You miss her." Was Bruce's response. It wasn't a question- it was a statement of fact. Steve nodded, looking down. He missed her more than words could say when she was gone. It was like she took a piece of him with her whenever she left. She was the one who comforted him after Daddy got mad, and who held him after he had nightmares. She sacrificed some of her own dinner so he could eat more, and even though they had almost no money, she thanked God every day for her blessings, and he wanted so badly to have that kind of relationship with The Lord. He wanted so much to be like her. To be brave and honest, to be loving toward everybody.

He wanted to be Captain America- and he didn't even know it.

"Tell me about her." Bruce said, sensing he wanted to talk, but didn't quite have the words. Steve's face turned thoughtful.

"She's real pretty. With nice red hair, and a white smile. We pray together a lot. She sings me to sleep when I have nightmares, and sings hymns all the time. She teaches me sunday school when I can't go to church, and is the nicest person I know. We don't have much, but she always gives me some of her food when I'm hungry. She's always right there with me at the hospital when I get sick, and she never ever complains. Not _once. _When she's not here, I talk to God about things like she does, and try and remember that he's still there even when she isn't."

Bruce eyed the rest of the team, who were "Sleeping" across from Steve and himself. He knew Steve's words had touched them, even though they couldn't show it. He could feel it. Suddenly, Steve stiffened.

"Allen is talking again." he stated. Bruce had anticipated something of the sort happening, and was fully prepared.

"Steve..." Bruce began, unsure of how to say what he wanted to. "I know a lot of this is very strange to you, and a little scary, I'm sure, but I need you to trust me when I say there is a way I can help you, okay?" He said. Steve nodded.

"There's a machine we have here, it can see into your mind. Since not all of us have an Allen inside of us, I'd like to use it to meet him. Is that okay with you?" He asked, incredibly unsure of himself. Steve, doing the one thing Allen told him never to do, put his trust in the doctor with a nod.

"It's not gonna hurt me right?" He asked nervously. Bruce shook his head adamantly.

"Not one bit. I promise." He said. Steve nodded with solemn eyes, and Bruce turned to get the machine with something more breakable than glass in tow.

He carried all of Steve Rogers faith in people in his hands.


	4. Understanding

**A/N: Warning: Foul Language and graphic violence in this chapter!**

The Avengers present in Steve's room "Woke up" after Bruce left. They made a game of introducing everyone to him, only stopping when Natasha saw Thor's red cape fluttering behind the window and excused herself. She pulled Thor aside and explained the situation as delicately as she could. When Natasha entered with Thor in tow, Steve couldn't help but stare.

The man wore lots of shiny armor, just like the knight toy he had at home. His cape was a bright red that made steve want to remember something... something he couldn't quite place. A memory too far from reach. The man had long hair, and Steve wondered why he didn't cut it. Nonetheless, he was polite like his Momma taught him, and said,

"Hello, Sir."

Thor grinned. "Greetings." He said, examining the small child. He was happy to see that the boy's old fashioned ways were ingrained in him. It was something they'd bonded over and he would hate to see gone. Steve, although fascinated with the man standing before him, became distracted by Doctor Banner wheeling a strange machine into his room.

It was a white box-looking thing with wheels on the bottom. On top of it was a tangled mess of wires that made Steve think of the dust bunnies his Momma pulled out from under the couch. Bruce pushed it to the other side of Steve's bed that wasn't lined with chairs, and the remaining Avengers sat in their respective seats. As he began untangling the wires, Bruce began explaining the procedure to Steve.

"Alright Steve, what we're gonna do is hook these wires up to your head, and turn on the screen. When you hear Allen talking, tell me so that I can adjust the frequency so we can try and hear him. Do you have any questions?"

"Are you gonna knock me out?" He asked.

Bruce smiled. "Not at all."

Steve nodded. After a few more minutes of untangling wires, the machine was ready.

"Alright, Steve, we're gonna hook you up now." Said Bruce, calmly. The wires were strung into a headband looking thing, with suction cups on the inside. Steve put it on, feeling more than a little ridiculous. If wearing this thing helped stop Allen, though, he'd look ridiculous forever.

"Ready, Steve?" Asked Bruce, trying to remain jovial. Steve nodded, Pale and sickly.

The machine turned on.

For a little while there was nothing but static, but when Steve jerked small noises came on the machine, as well as a hazy figure on the screen.

With a slight adjustment to the frequency, the picture was clear, and the voice was distinguishable.

The Avengers were used to battling monsters, evil scientists, and whackjobs alike. They weren't prepared to hear what "Allen" was telling (Or rather shouting) at Steve. Sure, they'd been called their share of names in the past, but a four year old child hearing _this _on a daily basis? There must have been no crueler torture. They all listened with horrified expressions as they heard Allen begin tearing into the child.

_"You're a worthless little shit. I hate you. Your Daddy hates you too- why else does he hit you all the time? There's something wrong with the room. They're trying to poison you. Remember when the bullies beat you up? You deserved it. Bet you wish your Momma was here, don't you you bastard child? Well she's not coming- she hates you too. You're the reason she's so poor- she has to send you to the hospital all the time. Kill yourself you weak little skeleton. Jump out this window right now and do everyone a favor. You're disgusting. I hate you."_

Steve was used to most of the insults Allen threw at him, but the one about his Momma being poor and starving because of him was a new one. It hit him in the chest like bullet, making him bleed guilt and pain. He wanted his Momma here to tell him it was nonsense and that he was being silly. But Momma wasn't here- he was facing Allen alone, and that scared him.

As Steve clamped his hands over his ears, the rest of the Avengers stared into the face of Allen. His face was long and angular, like the bones were protruding from his face. He had a long goatee, and dark brown hair that was curly and scraggly. He had piercing green eyes and so many lines in his face that he looked old enough to be a grandfather. It was a terrifying face that made one think of the homeless pickpockets that tried to steal women's purses. Allen kept going.

_"Let's play a game." _

At that, Steve froze. Anytime Allen said that, he always ended up getting hurt. over the machine, Steve's thought, _"I don't want to play, Allen. Go away." _was heard through the speakers.

_"Oh, but this will be fun. Let's make a slideshow, shall we?_

_"With what?"_

_"How about your worst memories?"_

Steve felt the room and people drain away and was sent reeling into the darkest corners of his mind. They all appeared on the screen, but instead of them being from Steve's point of view, it was from the perspective of someone watching from the outside. That didn't stop Steve from feeling everything all over again. The slideshow began.

_Daddy stood in the kitchen, arguing with Momma, while Steve sat in the living room, trying to block them out. When he looked up, Daddy had struck his Momma across the face._

_The kids at school were playing ball, and one of them hit Steve in the stomach, shouting "Freak!"_

_Daddy was hitting him for trying to protect his Momma._

Steve curled up in a ball, squeezing his hands over his ears as tight as he could. He tried ignoring the pain in his stomach from the ball and the sting on his face from Daddy's hand. He just wanted it all to _stop. _The memories kept going.

_Allen told him to kill his Momma before his Daddy did._

_Daddy got out the belt he kept in his closet and lashed him across the back for talking back to him._

But none of the others hurt as bad as the last one. He had only been two and a half at the time, but he remembered it perfectly.

_Mommy was reading on the couch when Daddy came home. The way he slammed the door made his Mommy stand straight up. "Sarah! Where's my dinner?!" He shrieked, breath reeking of alcohol. Steve was on the floor, playing with his blankie in front of the couch where Mommy was. He looked up, frightened at the loudness of Daddy's voice. Mommy scrambled to her feet to get the cabbage off the stove, but tripped over his blankie. She got right back up and made Daddy's plate, but the cabbage was burnt. Daddy turned to him and stumbled over to him. "Dumb little shit!" he screamed, and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. "I'll show you what it's like to burn." He carried Steve to the lamp that held the only lightbulb they owned. It had been on for an hour while Mommy was reading. Daddy put his work gloves on and unscrewed it, then grabbed it by it's end. He moved his grip from Steve's neck to gripping the back of his arm so hard that he felt like crying. Suddenly, Daddy pressed the hot lightbulb to the back of his neck, and he screamed in agony and started to cry. Daddy threw him aside. "Worthless piece of shit."_

He felt the lightbulb being pressed to his neck and shrieked in pain, crying. Satisfied, Allen left him, smirking as he walked away. Bruce rushed to turn the machine off, but before he could, Steve's thought was heard loud and clear over the monitor.

_"It hurts. Oh my back, oh my neck, oh it hurts, Momma, it hurts so bad." _

The child stuck his thumb in his mouth, trying to block the memories out. Bruce and the rest of the Avengers looked at the child in what had to be the most pity SHIELD's medical bay had ever seen. Bruce sat on one side of him, with Natasha on the other side, stroking Steve's hair. Tony sat at the end of the bed, looking at his leader with sadness, while Clint mirrored his expression standing behind Natasha. Thor sat next to Tony at the end of the bed with a thoughtful expression.

They surrounded the boy, a wall of protection, and knew that as soon as Steve was well enough, they were going to give him the best memories they could.

**Author's Note: What do you want to see the Avengers do with Steve? Leave a review and let me know!**


	5. Comfort

**krikanalo: I'm so glad you liked the chapter! It was pretty tough to write. Right now it feels like he's going to be turned back, but that may change as the story continues. Thanks for the suggestion!**

When Steve had calmed down and stopped crying, he finally noticed all the people around him. He knew Miss Natasha had been there since he could feel her stroking his hair. He hadn't expected Mr. Thor, Mr. Clint, Mr. Tony, and Doctor Banner to be there. For a second he felt embarrassment creep through him, until he remembered they saw everything. He knew that they understood his hurt.

Steve uncurled himself and tried to smile at Doctor Banner from behind his thumb.

"Are you okay?" He asked. When it came to speaking matters, the group typically left that to Bruce. Since he had experience with children and the others were more reserved, it was only natural that he did the talking.

Steve thought about it for a second, then nodded, not taking out his thumb. He felt like he had too much to deal with. The sucking helped. It made him feel comforted. Bruce was silent for a small stretch of time, then asked:

"Do you want anything?" The first thing that popped into his head was his Momma, but somehow he knew he wouldn't get her, so he settled on the next best thing.

"My bwankie. Mwy Mwomma used to spwray it with her pewfume when I hwad bwad dweams."

He felt like a baby when he said it, but he felt comfortable enough with the people in the room not to care. Bruce smiled at him.

"What did it look like?"

"'s Bwue." He said quietly. Suddenly he felt overwhelmingly tired, and fought to keep his eyes open. He remembered a hymn his Momma sang to him, and fell asleep to the soothing lyrics of "Amazing Grace."

When the child's breathing evened out, Bruce turned to the rest of the team and walked with them into the nearby conference room.

"What do we want to do now?" He asked.

Natasha was the first to sigh. "We have to help him. There has to be something we can do."

"Aye," Said Thor, "The child has suffered much torment at the hands of his father."

"Not to mention his mind." Tony added. "That Allen guy is a freaky son of a bitch."

"Before we can go any further, we need to know what we're dealing with as far as his mind goes." said Clint, remembering his own time under Loki's mind control. Every eye went to Bruce. With a sigh, he began explaining.

"Steve is schizophrenic."

"Yeah, because we all know what that means." Tony replied, rolling his eyes.

"It means that he hears voices and has hallucinations." Said Bruce.

"And he never needed anyone to know because the Super Soldier Serum healed his mind." Natasha finished with a sigh.

"So what do we do about it?" asked Clint.

"I'll find him antipsychotics. Our priority right now should be protecting him from himself." Bruce said. They all nodded. "Until I can find some meds, can you all watch him? Try and find a blanket if you can. We can take him to Stark Tower until things... resolve." Again, they all nodded. After a long pause, Natasha spoke up.

"What do we do about his Mom?"

Silence met the question.

"He has to know." Said Natasha, quietly. "We can't lie to him about that."

"And what the hell are we supposed to tell him?" Tony demanded.

"We tell him that she's living on in him, and he has to go on for her." Bruce said.

Again, silence filled the room.

Natasha slowly nodded. "I'll go and find him the blanket, and maybe some perfume to spray it with."

Bruce nodded. "Are we all agreed on what we have to do, then?"

They all nodded.

"Good. Let's go."

**A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I promise there's more coming! Please review and tell me any ideas you may have! Thank you guys!**


	6. Momma

**krikanalo: Thanks for reviewing! I always look forward to reading what you have to say! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**A/N: I do not own the poem "Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye.**

Steve was trapped in a horrible nightmare- possibly the worst he ever had. His Momma was in a hospital bed, coughing and coughing until she suddenly stopped.

"Momma?" He called. She didn't move. "Momma?" He called, intensely frightened. Still nothing. He walked over to her bedside, tears streaming down his face, and shook her.

"Momma, Mommy please get up! Please! PLEASE!" He cried, sinking down to the floor. The last thing he heard before waking was the sound of Allen laughing at him.

Steve jerked awake with a slight gasp, and looked frantically around the room. He was left alone. Slowly, he sat up. Despite the numerous blankets covering his frail body, he was cold. Unbearably cold. Rubbing his arms in hopes of getting warm, he looked around his hospital room for the first time. There was a window to his left, with crisp, white curtains that fluttered in the breeze. The walls were a peculiar shade of white that made him think it was incredibly dirty for some reason. To his right were three blue, cushioned chairs with light brown arms. They looked to be somewhat comfortable. At the wall behind his bed was a heart monitor, and an IV pole that was attatched to his arm. The sheets that covered him were white, and the top one was some shade of medium blue. At the end of the bed, propped against the wall was a tray of food, still left untouched.

It was just another hospital room to him.

Suddenly, Mr. Clint and Mr. Tony were there, smiling at him. Both took note of the sadness that marred his eyes. They sat down and gave the child a minute to think. Without warning, he turned to them and said:

"My Momma's dead."

It wasn't a question- it was a statement. One of horrible, all-knowing, undeniable truth. The two men didn't know what to say. Steve looked down with a sigh. Everyone he loved always went away. Now he really _was _all alone. Allen wasn't talking to him at the moment, and he was glad. He didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anybody. He just wanted everything back to the way it was supposed to be. Finally, Clint spoke up, echoing the words Bruce had said earlier:

"Your Mother isn't here, but she'll always be there for you."

The only response Steve could muster was a depressed sigh. He looked out at the starry sky beyond his window with glassy eyes, looking to the sky and God for answers. God had always been there in his darkest moments, but now he couldn't help but wonder if he was still there. After all, how could a God who loved him so much take his Momma away? It seemed cruel and hurtful. Did God still love him? Was God going to abandon him too?

Before could start to cry, Natasha appeared in his room, carrying a dingy blue blanket in her hands. A flash of recognition passed through Steve's eyes, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. He took the blanket into his hands and rubbed it against his cheek. The scent of Momma's perfume entered his nose, and suddenly he was at peace.

"Thank you, Miss Natasha." He said quietly. She smiled at him as gently as she could manage and said,

"You're welcome."

After a few minutes, the peace was gone and reality smacked him in the face. His Momma was dead, and he was never going to see her again. Silently, the tears streamlined down his cheeks and he let them flow into his blanket. It was a soul-crushing blow to know that the only person he really and truly loved and known had been snatched away from him. He crumpled forward and wept silently. He kept repeating Mr. Clint's words in his head. He knew his Momma was there still, but he wanted her to hold him and cuddle him and tell him he was going to be okay. It was then that Mr. Tony said something that made him look up.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep  
I am not there. I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow.  
I am the diamond glints on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning's hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
I am not there. I did not die."

For a second, everyone was speechless. Steve stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded and touched, before jumping off the bed and hugging Tony. While Tony Stark was not particularly fond of affection (unless, that is, it came from one Pepper Potts), He allowed it from Steve and hugged him back. No matter how big of a tough guy he was, the kid just realized he lost his _Mom _at four years old. Who was he to deny the child comfort? He'd read the poem after his father died and had committed it to memory. He knew some of what Steve was experiencing, and knew it was one of the hardest things the child would ever face. But he'd be damned if the kid faced it alone. When Steve let go, the intense gratitude in the child's eyes made him feel like he'd done his good deed for the day.

"Thank you." Said Steve with shining eyes. Tony smirked.

"No problem, kid."

Steve hopped off his lap and back onto his bed, his ratty blanket in tow. As he looked out into the starry sky, he started to think he'd be okay. With Miss Natasha, Mr. Clint, Mr. Tony, Mr. Thor, and Doctor Banner by him, he felt a sliver of hope stir in him.

Just as the thought passed through his mind, a warm, gentle breeze passed through the room, and he just _knew _it was his Momma telling him that everything would be alright.


	7. Instincts

**krikanalo: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you liked Tony's dialogue in the last chapter, and I hope you like Natasha's in this one! Enjoy!**

Over the next few days Steve became despondent. Bruce said that coupled with a dose of regression was nothing out of the ordinary for a toddler dealing with a death in the family- particularly one as acute as the Mother's. For the next few days the child's thumb never left his mouth and the blanket never left his side. Whenever anyone tried to get him to eat he just cried, so they fed him through a tube. Nothing was as bad as the nights, though. Steve would cry himself hoarse, or so hard that he threw up. Most of the time it was a combination of the two. The hallucinations grew worse, and soon Steve seemed to barely be in touch with reality. The others were concerned, but none more so than Bruce and (surprisingly) Natasha.

Bruce had worried himself sick. He'd been sneaking the antipsychotics into Steve's food, but nothing seemed to be working. He'd sent dozens of antipsychotics until he finally had Steve on the strongest adult antipsychotic that was currently approved by the FDA. After that, he had begun looking into what made Steve like this in the first place.

Natasha's worry shocked even her. Of course she had been concerned in the beginning with trying to get Steve back to normal. Sooner or later, she had to admit that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. As she began to spend time in Steve's room, she felt her repressed instinct trying to rise up more and more. More often then not, she watched the child cry himself to sleep. A small, unused voice in the back of her mind kept telling her to go over there and comfort him, but she didn't know what to do. The same instinct that told her to find Steve's blanket (Or replicate one just like it in her case), was the voice in her head. Slowly, the instinct was being dug out. Unearthed like a fossil. Every time she tried to ignore it, it was like pinching a raw nerve. The instinct told her that she had to do something. The boy was grieving, and she had to try and help him somehow.

When an article in the paper appeared, she knew exactly what she had to do.

When Steve was asleep, she gathered them all in the conference room, and divulged her plan.

"I want to adopt him." She said, simply. Everyone quieted.

"Aren't spiders known for eating their young?" Tony quipped. The death glare he received from Natasha silenced his impending laughter.

"Natasha, Why-" Clint began before she cut him off.

"Because he needs a Mom, Clint. It's obvious he can't function without one. He's tormenting himself in there and I thought that maybe..."

"...You could help him." Finished Clint. She nodded, unable to speak.

"'Tis a righteous thing you're doing." Commented Thor. Natasha nodded.

"I just... He's just a kid. After all the shit he's gone through, now he has to deal with the death of his mother all over again. If he doesn't start eating soon he could starve himself to death. There's a part of me that just can't stand it, that keeps telling me to take action- I just know this is the right thing to do."

They all nodded.

"You guys can all stay at Stark Tower." Tony commented. They all nodded.

"We should all be there to see him through." Bruce added. "There's only so much he can take."

"Are we all clear on the plan?" Asked Natasha. They nodded in solemn agreement.

The second Natasha entered Steve's room, the boy shot up from his bed, eyes glazed over and a distant look on his face.

"Steve?" She asked him, quietly. The boy began to throw a grade-A tantrum, kicking and screaming and growing very violent. Natasha was quick to go to him, but not before he attempted to rip the IV from his arm. She intercepted him before he was able to do any damage, and the child spent another ten minutes struggling against her before slowly coming to.

"Steve," She said in the kindest voice she could manage, "Could I ask you a question?"

Steve nodded, placing his thumb back in his mouth, a little scared that he got it out in the first place.

"How would you feel about me adopting you?"

That made Steve pause. He looked up her with large eyes that made him look like a deer in headlights. Someone wanted to be his Mommy? He looked Miss Natasha up and down. She was pretty. She had red hair like his real Momma did, and had a smile that was just as pretty. She was the one who smoothed his hair when Daddy hurt him, and brought him his blankie when he missed his Momma.

"It'll be fun," She continued, wary of the silence. "We'll stay at Mr. Tony's place. He has a lot of things there that you'd like. He has a big house with plenty of food and room, and we can find you a doctor who could help you when you start hearing Allen. I won't let you from my sight. Where I go, there you'll be."

Steve popped his thumb from his mouth, and asked the question that was burning on his mind.

"Will you be like a Momma to me?"

Now it was Natasha's turn to pause. Never in her life had she ever pictured herself as a mother. She was an _assassin _for God's sake- and a Russian one at that. Motherhood was as foreign to her as the concept of trusting people. Again, the instinct reared it's head, and whispered the exact words she needed.

"I'll be whatever you need me to be."

Slipping his thumb back into his mouth, he snuggled into her and said,

"Yes."

**A/N: What do you want to see the Avengers do with Steve? How do you think Natasha will Mother him? Leave a review and let me know!**


	8. Family

**krikanalo: I didn't necessarily intend the chapter to be dark, but I can definitely see it in Steve's case. I think this chapter is a lot happier. I hope you like it!**

Natasha had never seen herself as a mother. She saw herself as cold, tough, and a master assassin. And yet, here she was. Often times she felt overwhelmed because Steve had opened up so much to her, and she felt a wall that made it impossible for her to reciprocate it. Nonetheless, the child opened up to her about his grief and feelings, and often Natasha would listen to him while stroking his hair, nodding when appropriate, without really having to say anything. With Natasha's encouragement, Steve began eating again. When he saw the food moving, he still had to wait for the hallucination to subside before eating, but overall he started feeling better. Steve would come out of his hallucinations much more, and he felt like he had a reason to stay in reality.

One of the constant things that kept popping into her head was the Musical _Les Míserables. _She couldn't help but compare herself to the Convict Jean Valjean, who turned away from his life of crime and adopted a young girl named Cosette. The number that really stood out her was the song "Suddenly"- set just after Valjean rescues Cosette from the abusive Thenardier family in who's inn she stayed. The verse that kept running through her mind was:

_"How was I to know at last that happiness can come so fast?_

_Trusting me the way you do_

_I'm so afraid of failing you_

_Just a child who cannot know that danger follows where I go_

_There are shadows everywhere_

_And memories I cannot share..."_

She didn't want to fail Steve.

It was plain and simple. Even if she was only his mother for a short time, she wanted to do it well. failure wasn't a word that was in her vocabulary, nor was it one that she ever liked to use in association with anything she did. Whatever she did, it had to be top notch- the best of the best. Motherhood was supposed to be instinctual- wasn't it? Fortunately for her, Steve was already teaching her so much. She learned quickly that unless you knew him very little, he seemed quiet, but when knowing someone he was a happy, bubbly kid. When Allen wasn't bothering him, he was up for anything and everything. The fragility of his body kept him from what he really wanted to do.

Bruce had finally found the perfect antipsychotic after a week straight of searching, after that, he focused solely on what had happened to Steve. What he found in the child fascinated him. The rays from the gun the scientists fired were the same ones that were used to activate the serum in the first place. He looked at it mathematically- A positive and a negative made a negative. The gun had negated the serum, but instead of making him age forward, it thrust him backward to keep him alive.

Fascinating. Utterly fascinating.

Natasha, when Steve fell asleep, went to court to start the adoption process. It was long and lengthy, but with the help of SHIELD, it only took a week.

When Natasha was told the process was completed, she felt a tingle of joy race across her.

When she told Steve, he looked at her, completely quiet, as if there was something he wanted to ask her but was too afraid to.

"Steve, is something wrong?" She asked in a kind voice she'd generated specifically for Steve.

"I- I just... what do I call you now?"

Natasha hesitated. She had been wondering the same thing. She didn't want to push him to call her "Mom" because she didn't want to make him feel like she was replacing his mother.

"Whatever you want." She said.

Steve hesitated. He wanted a Mommy. He wanted to call her that, but he didn't want to be too needy. He squirmed uncomfortably in his bed. He wanted so badly to call her that, but also felt like he would be replacing his real Momma. A rush of warm air swept the room and blew through the room. He felt a flutter in his stomach, and somehow felt that it was God and his Momma saying it was okay. That they wanted him to move on. Shakily taking in a breath, he asked.

"C-Can I... can I call you Mommy?" He blushed profusely, suddenly interested in his blanket. He started counting the stitches as he added, "O-only if you don't mind, 'course."

Natasha smiled, and the tension that built up in her stomach released instantly.

"I don't mind at all."

Steve grinned at her with a hundred watt smile. "Okay..." He hesitated before adding the word that he so desperately wanted to say, "Mommy."

For the first time in her life, Natasha felt her heart leap into her throat.

The week after the adoption process was over, Steve had been released from the hospital. It had been the most jubilant celebration the Avengers had had since their defeat of Loki. The antipsychotic Steve took typically wore him out pretty quickly, and by the time they got to the bottom floor of SHIELD, Steve was fast asleep. They whisked him to Stark Tower, making sure he didn't wake on the way, and Natasha carried him to his room.

Steve's room at the tower was as simple as it could get in Stark Tower. He only had a small lamp on his desk. Red, white, and blue streamed across the room. His dress blues hung neatly in a section of his closet, along with his civilian clothes. A new sketch pad and cup of pencils were placed on the desk, and a clock sat on the nightstand. A few chairs sat at the end of the bed, and a record player sat in the corner of the room.

Natasha admired Steve's room. It was old-fashioned, just like he was. Natasha thought it the best place to start before introducing him to modern technology. When Steve finally woke up, Natasha grinned at him.

"Welcome home, Steve."


	9. Time

**krikanalo: I'm so glad you enjoyed the cuteness! More is coming! Enjoy!**

When Steve woke up the first thing he noticed was the colors. The Red, White, and Blue of the American Flag burst from the walls with an almost overwhelming brightness. The sting of sunlight made him feel as though his eyes were burning. He looked around warily. The room was simple, like the hospital room- except a lot bigger. He smiled when he saw his Mommy sitting beside him. He sat up, still trying to shake the cobwebs from his head, and smiled.

"Welcome home, Steve." She said.

_Home._

What a ways away from the word "hospital" that was! Finally, he wasn't going to be poked and prodded like a calf on a farm. At last, he had freedom. He peered around the room, inspecting it before his eyes landed on the sketch pad on the desk. He longed to have it, to feel the creative freedom that came with the pencil and paper. Before he could ask, however, Natasha was already walking over to give it to him. Despite the age difference, Steve was still Steve. The sketching was a part of himself that he would never give up despite the time. As she handed it to him, She sat down and spoke quietly.

"Steve, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What, Mommy?"

"Things are... very different from what you understand. There might be a lot of things here that scare you or seem... advanced. I want you to trust me when I tell you that nothing in this tower will hurt you, okay?"

Steve gave a small frown, but nodded. "Okay." He started to sketch, and Natasha watched silently, wondering what would come from one meaningless line on the paper. After a few moments she realized it was becoming an ocean. The same one she was sure Steve crashed into with his plane. She sucked in a silent breath.

Subconsciously, he knew.

She kept her observation to herself as she watched the ocean become deep and blue. It was impressive for a four year old. After a short while longer, Natasha asked him if he was hungry, to which he replied yes. She took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen, carefully gaging his reaction as they entered the living room.

Steve was in heaven. That was the only way to explain all of the shiny things in the room.

There was a shiny glass table in the center of the living room, with something Mommy called a TV- it was six times as big as he was. There were couches- made of leather, he guessed, That seemed very expensive. The kitchen was even more impressive. Everything was shiny and marble. There was an oven, and _four _stovetop burners. There was a counter in the middle of the kitchen- It was an "Island", he was told, and lots of dark colored cupboards. His Momma would have just died if she had seen such a spectacle. The thought made him frown, but he tried to keep his spirits high.

"What do you want to eat?" She asked, calmly. Steve shrugged. He'd eat anything as long as it didn't aggrivate his nut allergy. Even the smell could set him off. He shuttered just thinking about it.

"Does a ham sandwhich sound okay?" Steve smiled and nodded. Suddenly, a disembodied voice said,

"I'm afraid Master Thor ate all of the ham. My apologies, Miss Romanov." Natasha was quickly reminded that Steve didn't know about JARVIS yet. She was unsurprised when he yelped and hid behind her leg.

"That's fine, JARVIS. Steve, the voice you're hearing is named JARVIS, he's Tony's butler."

"I'm a highly intelligent, AI, Miss Romanov, not just a butler." JARVIS corrected. Natasha glared into the kitchen camera, making Steve giggle.

"Hello, Mister Rogers." JARVIS greeted.

"Hello." Steve greeted tentatively.

"If you ever need something and I'm away, you can ask JARVIS. He'll help you." Steve nodded, still unsure of the device. Hawkeye made his way through the kitchen, grabbing a can of peanuts from the cupboard as Tony strode in behind him.

"God, Clint, you can't go this long without eating. You'll be skin and bones. Well, hey, at least Steve-O is still skinnier than you, huh?" Tony said, ruffling the child's hair. The death glare he received disturbed him enough to ask "What?"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Mr. Tony." The phrase was thick with ice in his voice. "Bad things happen to people who take the Lord's name in vain."

Tony wanted to be funny and make a snappy remark, but _damn_, The kid was _serious. _The death glare he got from the former Captain made him shut up.

"Congratulations, Steve. You accomplished something none of us ever could have dreamed." Said Clint, popping a few planters peanuts in his mouth. Natasha smoothed his hair and grinned as Steve asked, "What?"

"You made Tony Stark shut up." Natasha finished.

The laughter that issued from the kitchen echoed throughout the house. Tony grumbled something along the lines of "Rotten kid" when he felt the heel of Natasha's boot dig deep into his back.

"What was that?" She snarled.

"Nothing," Tony said quickly. "Calm down, Momma spider, yeesh."

Natasha rolled her eyes and kicked him anyways.

Tony grumbled and picked himself up off of the floor before heading to his bedroom. Before Natasha could admire her good work, a cough gathered her attention. Steve was coughing and sputtering and quickly turned her eyes to see that there was an open canister of peanuts right by him.

_"Goddammit, Clint!" _she thought as she rushed over to Steve. The child's lips were turning blue, and red bumps were forming on his skin. Steve felt his throat close up as he gasped for air. Tears stung his eyes and he felt the room start to spin. Natasha flew through the kitchen, grabbed an eppy pen from the bathroom, and jabbed it into Steve's thigh not moments before he would have gone into aniphilactic shock. The color started returning to Steve's face, and Natasha immediately sealed the nuts and put them far away, before returning to Steve.

"Steve, are you okay?" She asked, searching his eyes for anything she didn't deem normal. After a few moments of deep breathing, Steve nodded, and cuddled into her, crying quietly. She cradled the child close to her chest, hushing him quietly and taking him back to his room. She knew she wasn't great at this whole "mother" thing, but at least she knew better than to leave something out like that that Steve was allergic to. Bruce had specifically stated when searching for medications that he couldn't have nuts. After settling the child down, and laying him down for a well deserved nap, Natasha went straight to the training room to work out some of her frustrations on the punching bag.

Tonight, she was clearing all the nuts out of Stark Tower. Well, every nut except Stark himself.

The thought made her smile, and she headed out the door.


	10. Snatched

**krikanalo: Thank you! And if it's from a movie, I don't know what it's from! Ah well, I hope you enjoy this final chapter!**

As Steve slept, a sinister plan had been put in motion.

At the head of this plan was a man named Robert Ingball. He was a master technician, psychologist, and chemist. He had been a part of the company that worked to produce the first batch of Super Soldier Serum, but was fired for leaking secrets to hostile forces. So he'd gone on and gotten several degrees before returning to the serum and perfecting it. The combination produced deadly results in most cases, and this one was no different.

The child wasn't going to live much longer. They were going to kidnap him, gather his DNA, and make a Captain America clone to fight the others. While they fought his henchmen were going to gather the DNA of the others. Then, the Super Soldier Serum perfected, would make exact clones of all of them, enhanced with the serum to stabilize them and get them to peak physical condition, and having his clones kill the Avengers and having his clones take over, thereby ruining the name of the group that dared try take him down and by default destroying the earth.

It was the brilliance such as this that made the world a dangerous place. For now though, he stuck to phase one of his plan. He had his helicopter placed strategically in the one blind spot Stark Tower had on the outside. One of Ingballs henchmen changed the matter of Steve's window to a fluid like substance and stood at the edge of the window, prepared to strike. The man reached through and grabbed Steve, who was too sleep addled to understand what was happening. Fortunately, JARVIS raised the alarm for him.

Natasha bolted to Steve's room, frantic and overwhelmed. The singular thought kept repeating itself over and over again like a broken record.

_"No one hurts my baby and gets away with it." _

She didn't have time to register the thought as she bolted into the room to see him being taken through a window. Frantically, she jumped for him, and only succeeded in pulling off his tiny sneaker. Her fury was unparalleled, and without thinking she leapt from the window, latching onto the helicopter ladder and following the kidnappers to their hideout undetected.

The hideout wasn't a hideout at all. It was a tiny wooden shack at the edge of the city, with rickety doors and a filthy dirt floor. Steve was thrown onto the floor and gave a wail as he hit it with a smack. Why was he here? He didn't have time to ponder the question because a hair was plucked from his head, earning a wince from the child. No one spoke to him, so he curled up, put his hands over his ears and tried to sleep.

While she was suspended ten thousand feet in the air, Natasha contemplated her earlier thought. Did she really think of him as her baby? After a few more minutes of contemplating it, she admitted to herself that yes, she did. After such a short time, Steve Rogers had become hers. She was surprised at that. She never thought of herself as a mother, but to think of herself as having a child somehow seemed slightly more foreign. She jumped down and landed silently on the roof as the helicopter hovered overhead. She snuck in through a tiny window. She saw Steve in the corner and although she wanted desperately to see that he was alright, she had to take down his kidnappers. With rage making her already expert moves perfect in aim, She shot a bullet through the machine they were using and started her fight. While taking down one of the scientists, Dr. Ingball got out the ray gun that was used on Steve in the first place. He shot at Natasha and missed, but the ray hit Steve dead on, knocking him unconscious.

_"DON'T YOU TOUCH MY BABY!" _She shrieked.

Natasha was beyond furious. She kick flipped into the good Doctor's stomach and used it as leverage to backflip over the others. With a few good, solid kicks to the head, only Dr. Ingball was left. He was a man of science, not one of fighting skills, so he quickly backed into the corner.

If ever he had a time to regret his decision, this was it. With a swift blow to the head, the doctor was knocked out.

Immediately Natasha bolted over to Steve.

"Steve, honey, can you hear me?" She asked, using the soft voice she reserved only for him. When she didn't get a response, she carried him out of the building with him cradled tightly to her chest.

Upon arrival at Stark Tower, Natasha ignored the concerns, questions, and comments of her fellow avengers and took Steve straight to his bed. The endless worry inside her stomach threatened to swallow her whole, and she teemed with guilt over leaving Steve alone. It was Clint who finally asked what was bothering her so much, and it was he she finally told.

"Geez, Tasha, that's what you're worrying about?" He said when she'd finished, "You saved him and all of us back there. The only thing you should be worrying about right now is helping get Steve back to normal."

There was a part of her locked away deep inside that didn't want him to be normal again. She had embraced motherhood for everything it was worth, and she didn't want to lose that. She didn't want to lose her baby.

Fate, however, had decided to resolve the issue. The blast from the ray had brought back Captain America, with fully restored health. The night he came back the tower was alive with celebration and "welcome back" music. Steve and Natasha, however, felt alienated.

They didn't get a chance to talk about it until two weeks later. Natasha was sitting outside on the balcony, looking at the stars. She felt a presence behind her, and instantly knew it was Steve.

"Hey Cap." She said quietly.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, feeling shy.

"Sure." She knew this was coming, but she didn't dread it.

"I remember everything," He began. Before she could speak, he stopped her. "And I can't thank you enough for what you did for me." She wasn't expecting that, and paused. He took the opportunity to continue. "You helped me through my darkest days and took me in as your own when I needed a Mom. It was above and beyond the call of duty. I just wish I knew how to thank you."

"We're a team, Steve. We protect each other." She said, making it seem like nothing.

"You did more than that, Natasha. You let me call you 'Mommy', You saved me from getting kidnapped..." He paused, unsure of how to say the next phrase, "... And you called me your baby."

Natasha's head snapped up. "You heard that?"

Steve nodded. "Right before I blacked out."

"Steve, I-" Natasha began but was cut off by Steve yet again.

"I know you felt the same way I did." He said, quietly. "I know you didn't want it to end. I didn't either. You gave me the childhood I never had. And after not having a mother for over seventy years..." He trailed off, the thought giving him a thick throat, "It was nice to have a Mommy." He finished quietly, looking down.

Seeing Steve's inner child come out let loose something inside Natasha. She went over and knelt down next to him.

"Steve," She said quietly, "Just because you're older now doesn't mean I can't be your Mommy." Steve looked up, and she went on, "You still need guidance, just not in the same way as before. That's what Mother's do- they guide. I'd be happy to help you adjust to this century and get used to things. While it's true things won't be the same as before, it doesn't mean I can't help you in all the ways I can. It doesn't have to end."

Steve nodded, not looking at her.

"Besides," She added, "I did technically adopt you."

"Does that mean I can still call you... y'know..." Steve kept his eyes to the floor, his face beet red.

"In private? Yes, absolutely. That's for my benefit too, you know." He nodded, still not looking at her. Natasha knew he was leaving something out.

"Steve," She said in her gentle voice, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I just... Do you still think of me as your baby?" He asked. Natasha pondered that for a minute before answering.

"When I see Captain America, I see a strong leader who knows exactly what to do and how to call the shots. When I see Steve Rogers, I see my baby." She said, quiet. It was a tough thing for her to admit, but she had to get closure somehow. Steve blushed at the omission, and asked the other question on his mind.

"Do you want your baby back?"

Natasha looked at him in surprise. "Neither of us wanted it to end, did we? I suppose that's all the answer we need."

"I-I still... want to... be..." Natasha thought Steve's face couldn't have been redder.

Boy was she wrong.

The instinct took her over, and she hushed him quietly, stroking his hair and pulling her chair beside his. Slowly, Steve set his head on her shoulder and his thumb entered his mouth.

"You can be whatever you want, Steve. Like I said before, I'll be whatever you need me to be."

With a contented sigh, Steve whispered, "Thank you... Mommy."

The word made Natasha smile, as she replied, "Anytime, honey. Anytime."

**A/N: Oh my! The end of another story! I wanted to know if any of you would like to see a sequel of Mother/Son drabbles between Steve and Natasha. Leave a review and let me know! Thank you very much to krikanalo for your constant reviews! I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love you guys!**


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